The Pocket Watch
by Bottled.Stardust
Summary: A simple trip to an alien planet goes awry when the Doctor offends a race of alien time travelers. They're closing in, so he's forced to do the only thing that can save them: Become human and lie low until they give up the search. But with his second heart goes his memory, and Clara realizes that it's going to be hard to keep him safe when he makes a huge mistake: falling in love.
1. Prologue

Clara's lungs were filled with smoke. She could barely see, much less breathe, but the argument she had been having with the Doctor prior to the explosion continued, as heated as ever.

"I thought you said that other aliens _couldn't_ time travel. Always one of your big points—'Oh, look at me, so special with my _unique time travel technology._ What the hell is this, then?"

The Doctor's hands were flying a million miles an hour, dancing over buttons and levers on the control board as if they had a mind of their own. "Okay!" He called over the sound of the TARDIS' emergency sirens, "Maybe I over exaggerated that part just a bit. But I didn't realize these ones were hostile! I didn't think it mattered!"

"Well yeah, it didn't matter," Clara snapped at him, "Until you had to go and _make them angry_!" The events of the past few hours were all a bit of a blur to Clara—one moment it had been a peaceful trip to a once-in-a-lifetime festival on a different planet millions of lightyears from Earth, and then the next thing she knew, they were on the run.

The TARDIS lurched to the side, throwing Clara against the metal railings. Her head slammed into the top bar, and she sunk to the ground, clutching at it with one hand and clinging desperately to the rails with the other. Her vision was tinged with red.

"We've been hit!" The Doctor yelled, dashing around to the other side of the console board and out of Clara's sight. "We don't have much time!"

Clara struggled to her feet, grabbing at anything she could use to keep herself steady in the constant lurching of the ship. "What are you going to do?" She asked, then broke down into a fit of coughing as she inhaled another lungful of smoke.

"Well, you know what they say—Desperate times call for desperate measures!" There was a high-pitched screech and the floor suddenly steadied. Some of the smoke cleared, and Clara gasped for air and stumbled across the central platform to stand next to the Doctor.

"Did we get away?" She asked, her voice hoarse. The alarm sirens had faded, but the red lights were still pulsing silently.

"Weeeeell…" The Doctor grimaced. "Unfortunately, no. They're much harder to evade than that. I've just engaged the high-power shields, which hide us from their sensors for the time being, and stabilized the gravity in here."

"I'm sensing a huge 'but' coming up," Clara said nervously.

The Time Lord straightened his charred bow tie with an air of haughtiness. "For all you know, Clara Oswald," He began, "I could have just saved our lives with no 'buts' involved! You don't give me enough credit, you know. A thousand years of time and space, I know this thing like the back of my hand." He held up one hand and wiggled the fingers at her, as if to prove a point.

The floor began to quake subtly. Clara crossed her arms and glared up at the Doctor. His eyes flickered from the lever he was still holding with one hand back to his irate companion, and finally cracked. "Okay, okay!" He said, raising both hands in defeat. "There's most definitely a 'but' in this situation. With the high-power shields on, they can't see us, but it also drains the power at a rate of…" He trailed off and glanced down at a dial on the console. His hands dropped and he instantly turned away from Clara, turning to fiddle with the instruments. "No, no, no," He muttered under his breath. "No, no, no, no, NO!" He slammed his hands against the console. "That's just no good!" He sucked in a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wide with panic.

"Doctor?" Clara asked tentatively. "What's going on?"

"We're almost out of power," He said grimly, "And the shields are going to falter in about two minutes."

"Two minutes?!"

"If we're lucky." The Doctor turned back to Clara and fixed her with one of the most intense stares she had ever seen him give. His hands gripped her shoulders. "Listen, Clara," He said softly. "I didn't want to do this. I really didn't, but there's no other choice. I'm sorry. I'm so… Sorry."

Clara opened her mouth to respond, but found herself cut off as he pulled her into a sudden hug, his arms wrapped around her with bone-crushing strength. "What's going on?" She managed, trying to grab onto him as he let go of her.

His gaze turned away as he spoke, like he couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry," He said again, his voice suddenly softer. "I've only had to do this once before, and it almost… it almost ended very badly. But I don't have any other choice."

"Doctor, you're scaring me," Clara said slowly, backing up. "What… what's going on?"

"I'm so sorry." He turned towards her just for a moment, his eyes glistening with tears, and then turned away, toggling a few levers. Something dropped down from the ceiling, a sort of helmet with lots of cables and wires. Clara stood, dumbfounded, as he pulled it closer to him and settled it on his head. The ground lurched, but he gritted his teeth and held it against his skull.

"What are you doing?" Clara jumped away from the Doctor as a piece of metal fell from somewhere high above, scattering sparks between them.

The Time Lord's hands were shaking. "I'm disguising myself!" He called out over the sounds of the TARDIS sirens that had erupted into noise again. "These are clever aliens—Oh, they are _good._ Their technology rivals that of Time Lords, but we have one distinct advantage over them: they're blind! They've smelled me, but that sense isn't particularly sharp, either. They've smelled me and they can sense me and the TARDIS, which is how they're pursuing us. They can tell that I'm a Time Lord and that I've got a very important piece of technology with me, but that's it! If I change that, they won't be able to detect us at all, and they'll hopefully give up within the month!"

"Well yeah," Clara shouted over the sirens. "But how do you do that? You can't just stop being a Gallifreyan!"

"That's where you're wrong!" The Doctor was typing furiously at a keyboard on the edge of the control board. He raised one hand to tap at the helmet. "Chameleon arch: Very complicated technology, quite rare and very painful. But it works. It rewrites my biology, changes every single cell in my body from Time Lord to human. They won't be able to smell me. We lie low on Earth for a while, live out normal lives and leave the TARDIS shut down so she can power up again, and then when they leave, we go back to normal! Okay?"

Clara's voice rose in panic. "I'm sensing another 'but' here, Doctor!" She yelled as the sirens wailed louder, their red lights washing the whole room in an eerie color.

"Well, yes, I suppose there is one," The Doctor called back at her. "Unfortunately, the chameleon arch is a little too effective—it wipes my memories, too, and leaves me with a whole other life in my head. I won't remember any of this, which means that it becomes your job to make sure I don't… do anything stupid, like cut my hair or get rid of the bow tie. You know, normal things!"

"Where do the rest of your memories go?" Clara asked.

Frantically, the Time Lord dug something out of his pocket and tossed it at her. Clara realized it was a small, golden pocket watch, etched with symbols in Circular Gallifreyan. "My entire being, this part of me, will be contained inside that watch!" He said. "When we're safe, you can open it and I'll be back to normal. But you absolutely _cannot _open it otherwise, unless it's an emergency or you're sure we're safe!"

Clara panicked, and almost tossed the watch back at him. "But what if I lose it or something? You keep it!"

"No, Clara." The Doctor, still wearing the helmet and trailing cables, stepped over a piece of broken metal and closed her hand carefully around the little timepiece. "I trust you to keep that part of me safe. Now, back up, I don't want to accidentally hit you."

Clara stumbled backwards as the Doctor slammed down a lever on the console. The last thing she heard him say was, "Get us out of here after this!" before his entire body convulsed and he collapsed to the ground, gripping his head, screaming in pain, his eyes screwed shut. Clara ran to his side, ignoring the sirens and looking desperately for a way to help him, but he didn't seem to respond to her shaking his shoulders. Gradually, the sounds of the TARDIS faltered and slowed. The lights dimmed, flickering shakily from red to orange, and still the Doctor stayed curled on the ground, screaming, shaking. She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, but finally he convulsed one more time and fell silent. Clara realized he was unconscious.

While she had been focused on him, the sounds of the TARDIS had faded away. The lights were almost all off, except for the glowing _Police Box_ sign above the doors. Clara remembered what the Doctor had said about needing to get them out of there, so she gently unlatched the chameleon arch from the Doctor's head and grabbed him under the arms. The TARDIS was filled with chunks of smoking wreckage that must have fallen from the ceiling, but at least the explosions had stopped. Clara guessed that the ship had shut down, probably to power back up after the Doctor used all of the reserves on the shields. It took a lot of maneuvering, and the unconscious Time Lord was _quite _a bit heavier than she'd expected, but Clara finally managed to pull him out of the doors and onto the street. She carefully slipped her arms out from underneath him and straightened up, wincing as her back cracked in protest.

It was nighttime, and they were somewhere—Clara wasn't entirely sure where yet, but it looked like the edge of a city, where urban met suburban and there were lots of little shops but no big skyscrapers. The TARDIS had parked itself in a little gap between two shops, in a dark alley littered with trash and rusty bins. It was chilly out, and Clara shivered as she hooked her arms under the Doctor's and dragged him a little further out. She glanced down the street, glad to see that it was mostly deserted. Dragging a man down the sidewalk was sketchy enough, but she imagined it would be even worse at night. Clara set him down again and rubbed her shoulders, groaning softly. She wondered if there was a motel nearby.

"Hey! Are you all right?" Clara heard footsteps and the sound of footsteps coming up behind her. She turned to see a young woman with curly hair and olive skin, a loose brown coat around her shoulders and the most uncomfortable-looking pumps Clara had ever seen on her feet. Her bag was slinging loosely at her side, and she looked more than slightly alarmed.

"Oh! Yeah," Clara said. "I'm fine. Just, um… He isn't."

"What happened to him?" The woman crouched down next to the Doctor's unconscious form and nudged him with one hand.

"Too much to drink at the pub," Clara told her, the lie coming a little too easily. "I was hoping to find somewhere close by to put him for the night. Is there a bed and breakfast around here?"

"No, sorry." The woman looked up at Clara. "But is he your friend? You could take him back to your house for the night, couldn't you?"

Clara suddenly realized that she and the Doctor didn't even have a place to stay. "Oh." Her mind scrambled for another lie to cover for them. "I don't have a place right now, actually. Or… Or anything." There was no way she'd even consider dragging the Maitlands into this. "And he was my friend." She smiled softly down at him. "I'm not sure he will be when he wakes up."

"Well…" The stranger trailed off and straightened up. "It just so happens I'm looking for a flatmate. Do you want to stay with me? And I guess we can bring your drunk friend back, too, for the night."

"Oh, I don't know. I don't really have a lot of money, and I'm kind of out of a job…"

"The rent's paid for the next two months, so you can get back on your feet before you need to help pay. And I live right down the street." She pointed behind her.

Clara opened her mouth for a second and took a breath. "Yeah, okay. That'll work. Um…" She stuck out a hand. "I'm Clara."

"Nina." The woman shook her hand and smiled. "Now come on, I'll help with your friend."

"Thanks." Clara leaned down to hook her arms under the Doctor's again, and Nina picked up his legs. They made a rather odd spectacle, two young women carrying an unconscious man down the street late at night, but fortunately no one was around to see it.

Nina's flat turned out to be just a few houses past the little shops the TARDIS had landed between. She unlocked the door with one hand and pushed it in with her hip. "My old flatmate just moved out, so all the furniture's still here," She explained as they carried the Doctor inside.

They set him down on the couch in the little living room, and Clara let out a long breath of relief. "Thanks again," She said. "I was starting to get kinda worried I'd have no place to stay."

Nina smiled. "No problem! Your room is first door on the left down the hall." She yawned. "I'm going to take a shower and then go to bed. You're welcome to do whatever." She ran a hand through her curly hair and yawned again. "G'night."

"Night," Clara replied as her new flatmate wandered off down the hall. When Nina had gone, she sighed and sat down on the couch, next to the sleeping Doctor. "I really, really hope we're still friends when you wake up," She whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. Out of curiousity, she pressed two fingers to the inside of his wrist, wondering if he really had only one heart now. She'd felt the four-beat melody of a Time Lord's pulse before, when she had grabbed his wrist to pull him along with her.

Her fingertips felt the faint, two-pulse beat, and she removed them with a sigh. He really _was_ human now. She stood up and looked back at him one more time, then forced herself to turn away. Her hand slipped into her pocket and she ran her fingers over the etches of the watch. When she opened the door to her room, she was too tired to do anything but flip the light out, flop down on the bed and fall asleep, her hand still clenched tightly around the little timepiece, the part of the Doctor's soul he had placed under her care.


	2. Chapter 1

**a/n: I just wanted to drop a quick note in to say thank you for all of the alerts, favorites, views and reviews on the prologue of this! It really motivated me to update, so I hope you enjoy. c: Don't be afraid to drop a review if you have any thoughts, because I'd love to read it!**

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Clara awoke to the sound of muted conversation from the next room over, and to the realization, several minutes later, that she had no idea where she was. Panicked, she scrambled up and felt the previous night come rushing back in a torrent so powerful it gave her a headache. She groaned and rubbed her temples as she stood up, the old bed she'd fallen asleep on creaking as it was freed of her weight. She was still in her sooty, smoke-smelling clothes from before, and she felt rather disgusting. The pocket watch was clenched in her fist, and as she loosened her grip, her fingers protested sorely.

She stretched her arms out, yawned, and opened the bedroom door to see if Nina was still in. She had no idea what time it was, but the golden light shifting through the window told her it was probably still fairly early. She stepped out into the living room, surprised to see that Nina was sitting in the armchair opposite the couch, having a conversation with a very alert looking Doctor.

He was leaning forward intently, his arms resting on his knees as if the conversation was very important. Nina seemed more laid back, reclining in her chair with her legs crossed, her curly hair in a ponytail over her shoulder. Clara had assumed it to be too early in the morning for drinking, but Nina clearly didn't; the young woman had a half-empty glass of red wine in one hand, which she was swirling thoughtfully as the Doctor spoke to her.

As soon as Clara came out of her room, they both stopped talking. Nina glanced over. "Morning!" She said cheerfully. "John and I have just been talking."

The Doctor glanced up at her with an almost unreadable expression. "You're Clara, aren't you?" He asked. His voice made Clara's heart skip a beat—he somehow sounded _different_. The way he spoke, something about his tone, just wasn't the Doctor. And what was it Nina had called him?

"Yeah," She replied, realizing she'd just been staring at him unsurely for a few seconds. "I'm Clara. You're, uh, John. Right?"

He nodded, with a faint smile. "Pleased to meet you."

Clara felt a lump form in her throat, and she tried to swallow it. "You, too," She managed.

He scooted over on the couch so she could sit down, and she did, a little uncertainly. "So," He started, "Would you mind explaining what happened last night? I really can't remember much."

"Um…" Clara hesitated. "Well, there's not much to tell," She finally said. "You'd had a few, and we were chatting when suddenly you fell off your chair and kind of got knocked out. I couldn't have just left you there, so I figured I should just…"

The hint of a grin crossed his face. "Bring me back to your flat?"

Clara's entire face flushed. "Yes. No. No! I didn't even live here until last night. Really, it's Nina's flat."

Nina shrugged and took a sip of wine. "It's your place now too," She reminded Clara. "Oh! Speaking of, do you want a drink? There's plenty in the—"

"Nah." Clara waved a hand, dispelling her new flatmate's offer. "Thanks, though. I'm not really a big drinker."

"Oh, you're not?" Nina raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow. "What were you doing down at the pub last night, then?"

_Shoot._ Too late, Clara realized the hole in her story. "I was, uh, meeting some friends," She said, stumbling over her words in an attempt to cover for herself. "Well, I was supposed to. They didn't show. I'd only had part of a drink when the Doct—When John and I started talking." Clara grimaced inwardly as she almost used his proper title.

"Oh, that's right. I remember now." The Doctor flicked his gaze towards her and his smile grew.

Clara giggled at the goofy expression. "What?" She asked.

He shook his head slowly, still smiling at her. "Nothing. Just… It feels like I know you. Have we met before this?"

"You mean before last night?" Clara corrected. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "No, I don't think so."

Even as a human, the Doctor was smart. His bright green eyes inspected her curiously, leaving Clara shifting a little embarrassedly under his gaze. She looked away, and swore she heard Nina snicker.

"Well." The Doctor (John? She really wasn't sure _what_ to call him) wiggled over a little and stood up, stretching his long legs. "It's been lovely, but I ought to get back to my flat." He nodded at Nina and then flashed Clara the hint of another smile. "But I really do appreciate the help."

"I'll let you out," Nina offered, standing up to show him to the door while Clara sat back and wondered if he actually _had _a flat, or if that was just fake memories. She never could be sure with the Doctor—for all she knew, maybe he did have a flat somewhere in England. Clara settled back into the cracked leather cushions and listened to the other two have a muted conversation, followed by the creak of a door and a shout of, "Bye!"

A few moments later, Nina returned to the couch, plopped herself down across from Clara, and leaned towards her intently. "So." She started.

Clara flicked her gaze from side to side, then settled it back on her flatmate. "…Yeah?" She finally asked, when Nina didn't reply.

The other woman gestured one hand towards the closed door. "You and him."

Clara only gaped at her, for so long that Nina sighed and rolled her eyes. "Come on! I'm not seeing things." A grin spread across her face. "He _likes_ you."

"No," Clara replied firmly, recovering her composure. "He's hungover, not thinking straight and we don't even know each other." The lie felt like a ball of hot lead in her stomach, but she forced herself to keep talking. "He was just glad for the help."

"He smiled at you. A _lot_," Nina pointed out.

"He smiles," Clara repeated. "A _lot_." It was hard to think about the Doctor from just days ago, smiling at her as they flew off to some planet she couldn't even pronounce the name of, the TARDIS floor jolting beneath their feet and flinging them into each other, making them laugh. And suddenly her mind was filled with all those memories, from so recent but suddenly so far away. Their first trip to Akhaten, when they stood before the parasite god and watched her leaf dissolve into golden flecks, how they saved the world from the Cybermen, their near-death experience in the pocket universe. And all throughout that, sprinkled between the adventures and the dangers and the excitement were all those little smiles, the way he talked, how he hugged her all the time and for no apparent reason. John—the Doctor—whoever he was now—might have looked the same, but he wasn't. Not really.

The previous night caught up to Clara all of a sudden and she sank back into the couch, feeling almost as if she couldn't breathe. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she dropped her head into her hands, feeling a sense of overwhelming helplessness wrap itself around her like a blanket of ice.

Nina made a small noise of surprise from the other side of the room, and Clara felt the couch shift beneath her as the other woman sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, hey, I didn't mean to upset you. What did I say?"

"It's not you," Clara replied, her voice muffled by her hands. "I'm sorry, I just…" She heaved a heavy sigh and raised her head, wiping the tears off her face, suddenly self-conscious. "Sorry. I'm all right now."

"You obviously aren't. Come on, we're flatmates now! Tell me what's on your mind."

Clara gave Nina a grateful look. "It's just…" She took a shuddering breath. "I used to know him. A while back." _Or yesterday,_ She added silently, though she figured that detail would make her story a lot more confusing. "We were great friends. Now, he… he barely even recognizes me."

"But he _asked_ if you had met before," Nina pointed out. "Why didn't you say yes? It might have jogged his memory."

Clara shrugged helplessly. "I… I don't know," She mumbled between choked sobs. "I just miss him so _damn_ much, but I'm afraid he's changed. What if he doesn't like me anymore and he doesn't want to be friends?" The little voice of reason at the back of her mind kept reminding her that it was a temporary situation, but she just couldn't listen in her current state.

Beside her, Nina snorted softly. "Clara, _do you not have eyes?_ He likes you. Trust me."

The way she enunciated her words made Clara guess that Nina was referring to an entirely different sort of like than the one to which she was referring, but she managed a small, wavering smile anyways. "Thanks," She said, wiping the tears from under her eyes again. "I hope you're right."

Nina smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "I'm always right," She replied, getting to her feet. "You have nothing to worry about." She gestured for Clara to get up. "Now come on, you look awful. Maybe a shower will make you feel better."

"Oh." Clara glanced down at her soot-stained, ripped clothes. "I guess so, but I don't really have any spare clothes."

"You can borrow some of mine," Nina offered. "They might be a bit big, but they should work."

Clara made a mental note to go back to the shut-down TARDIS later and see if she could find the wardrobe, but for the moment she accepted a small stack of Nina's clothes and was about to head to the shower when there was a knock on the door.


	3. Chapter 2

**a/n: I finished this one relatively fast, thanks to all the reviews I've been getting! Thanks so much for all the traffic guys, it means a lot. (:**

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"You go ahead and shower, I'll get that," Nina said, but as she moved towards the door, her mobile started ringing shrilly on the counter. She groaned. "Never mind," She mumbled, quickly hurrying to pick it up. "Can you get the door? Please? It probably won't take long."

Clara sighed. "All I wanted to do was take a shower," She whined under her breath, but whoever it was knocked again and she set the stack of clothes down on the couch and went to open the door. It was almost certainly the Doctor again, probably come back because he either didn't have a flat, didn't know where his flat was, or had somehow managed to forget something (though he didn't have anything on him that he could forget; she'd removed his sonic from his pockets before taking him out of the TARDIS). She smoothed down her messy hair, sighed, and opened the door, only to be greeted by quite the opposite of what she had expected.

A young man was standing on their doorstep. He looked like a normal guy—most definitely _not_ the Doctor—in jeans and a t-shirt, except for one tiny difference: He was soaking wet. His dark hair was dripping, his face was streaked with trails left by little droplets, and his clothes were dark and hung funny, completely drenched. When Clara poked her head out, he brightened. "Oh, good! So Nina—" He broke off, his forehead creasing in confusion. "Wait, hold up. You're not Nina. Are you a friend?"

"Oh, no, I'm…" Clara pointed back into the house. "Nina's busy right now, sorry. Oh, and, uh, flatmate. Sort of friend. Um. Just moved in. Last night. I'm sorry." She shook her head. "Why are you soaking wet?"

He grinned and offered a damp hand, which she shook hesitantly. "Henry. I live upstairs and my sink's just exploded. Any chance you're good with a wrench?"

"Uh…" Clara shook her head again and let out a small, nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, I don't think so."

"Hm." Henry crossed his arms and tapped his foot, his shoe making a squelching sound against the front mat. "Well, do you mind getting a bit damp? You could help me try to stem the water flow, at least."

Clara gaped at him, wondering whether to believe his story or if it was just a dumb pick-up move (which she had seen before, amazingly), then realized she actually _could_ hear a faint sloshing sound coming from upstairs. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Yeah." He gave her a lopsided grin. "My sink has seriously exploded, which is exactly why we need to get up there before I run my water bill through the roof and flood the building. You coming?"

Clara gazed longingly back in at the fresh clothes on the couch and sighed. "All right, sure. Let's go."

"Grand." Henry turned and headed up the staircase in the entry hall, and for the first time Clara noticed that water was trickling down the carpeted steps and forming puddles on the ground.

Clara followed him. "So, uh, how long has it been flooding your apartment?" She asked, though judging by the amount of water, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Almost half an hour," He called back down. "I was thinking about coming to get someone before this, but I thought I had it under control."

"Sure looks like it." Clara raised her eyebrows at his back, but he didn't turn around until they reached the landing.

Henry pushed the door open and they were greeted by a fresh tide of water that flowed over and completely soaked Clara's shoes, which she was still wearing from the previous night. She made a noise of disgust and followed him inside.

The flat was a mess. It seemed as if, in an attempt to prevent his furniture from getting wet on the bottoms, Henry had shoved everything to the side of the room and as far away as possible from the water gushing out of the kitchen. This, of course, had inevitably failed, and left him with a lot of slightly damp furniture piled messily in a corner. The sink really _had_ exploded. The faucet was completely gone, and instead it was spraying a jet of pressurized water out, over the basin and onto the floor. Clara stared around, gaping. "How the hell did you even _do_ this?"

"Well, I was trying to fix the broken part in my sink," He explained to her as he splashed towards the sink, Clara in tow, "but then I think I dislodged something, and it started spraying water and wouldn't stop."

"And you only just now went to get help?" Clara asked incredulously.

"Well, Nina's not the best with fixing things, and I _thought_ I had it under control." He shrugged helplessly. "I would have come sooner if I'd known she had a flatmate."

"I'm not sure I'll be much more helpful than Nina," Clara admitted. "But hey, try me."

"Wonderful! Take this." He picked up a sopping towel off the ground and tossed it to her. She yelped as it splashed water all down her front. "You need to get to the sink and hold the towel over the spout while I try to put this piece back in with my tools." Henry held up a small, metal bit of something that he'd been holding in his hand.

"Not like I'm not going to go take a shower after this," Clara muttered to herself, then brandished the towel and crossed to the sink as quick as she could, avoiding the actual stream of water itself until she managed to duck in and shove the wet fabric down on top of the exposed pipe. The water gurgled under the towel, bubbling and pushing at it before slowly starting to trickle out from under it. At least it wasn't spraying crazily across the whole flat.

Henry let out a sigh of relief as he joined her by the sink. "See, this is why I needed help!" He said. "I don't have enough hands to do a two-person job." As if to highlight his point, he showed her his hands and wiggled the fingers a little bit.

"Yeah yeah, enough with the small talk," Clara replied. "Mind actually fixing this thing? I've got…important stuff. Later." _Well, a shower,_ she added to herself. _But I'd consider that important._

"Sorry, sorry!" He raised his hands in surrender, then moved around Clara and set about putting the little piece back into place. The pressure on the towel subsided and Clara removed it with a sigh of relief.

"There you go," She nodded. "All fixed." She flashed a smile and then moved to go back downstairs. "Lovely meeting you, Henry."

"Hey, wait!" He called. "I didn't even get your name."

"Oh, right. It's Clara." Clara smiled again and gave a little wave, then headed out the door and back down the stairs, every step making a squelching noise on the soaking wet carpet. She flung the door to her own flat open and closed it heavily behind her, letting out a long sigh.

"Nina," She began. "I don't mean to be rude, but your upstairs neighbor might just be a little crazy."

Her flatemate was seated on the couch, holding her phone her hands, staring blankly ahead. When Clara came in, she seemed to come out of a trance, and looked up at her. Her face seemed paler than before. "Oh, Henry?" Her voice had a sort of forced lightness to it. "He's a bit odd. But he's a sweetheart, you'll get used to it in time."

Clara gave her a look as she took off her wet boots to leave by the door. "Is everything okay?" She asked Nina.

"Oh. Um, yeah." Nina turned her phone over in her hands a couple of times, suddenly becoming very interested in it. Then she glanced back up at Clara. "Listen. My boyfriend's coming round in about half an hour, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind keeping out of the flat for a while. It's just…" She trailed off uncertainly. "We've kind of been fighting, and I think something might have happened, and I just really need to talk to him alone. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Clara nodded sympathetically. "I'm just going to pop off for a shower and then I'll hang 'round outside for a while. Have you got any books?"

"Loads, in the back room." Nina pointed down the hall, then went back to staring at her mobile, almost seeming to forget Clara was even there.

Clara bit her lip and leaned down to get her clothes, then left the room quietly to go shower. After that, she had only a few minutes before she needed to be out, so she snagged a novel from the bookshelf and went to sit out on the front stoop, aimlessly leafing through the pages although she had something more important on her mind.

She hadn't realized it beforehand, but she really shouldn't have let the Doctor leave the flat. She had no idea where he was, or what he was up to, or even if he was coming back. The Doctor's lack of, well, being there in the universe would be bad enough, but he had no past, no family, nowhere to live, no job, no money no nothing. How was he going to pull this off?

She sighed and picked at the torn edge of one page. Maybe she should go find him. Or she could just wait a month or so, open the watch and let him find his own way back, but if something happened to him before that… No. She couldn't even think about that. The Doctor was probably nearby, trying to sort out details of his life. Maybe he'd show up on his own. Until a little more time had passed, Clara knew she'd just have to keep on hoping.


	4. Chapter 3

a/n: Hey, guys! Thanks for all the views; a few days ago, I hit almost 400 in a single day! I'd really appreciate some reviews, though-the last one only got 2, and I really enjoy getting feedback.

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John was almost three streets away when he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was.

His head felt fuzzy. He groaned and rubbed his temples, trying to remember what he'd been doing. He had been going to his flat, right? Yes, that was it. His flat. His… flat? _Something weird's going on_, he thought to himself. All of a sudden, he couldn't remember where his flat was. He'd been walking somewhere so purposefully just a second ago, and now his mind suddenly felt blank, Where had he been going?

John rubbed his temples and groaned softly, wondering what, exactly, had happened to him down at the pub last night. The memories were fuzzy at best, but he was pretty sure he could remember little bits and pieces. It had been dark-ish, and crowded, and that was where he'd met Clara. Or maybe it had been well-lit and nicer, with only a few people in it when he'd met Clara. The events of the previous evening were almost there, hovering just out of reach, sending so many mixed signals that he couldn't figure out which were real and which were induced by whatever the hell he'd been drinking. Some of it had to be real, but he couldn't figure out which bits fit together properly.

The only thing that was standing still through all those memories was that Clara. He could have sworn on anything that he'd never seen her before he woke up on her couch, but something seemed oddly familiar about her—The way she moved, her voice, her funny little way of speaking, and, most definitely, the way he felt so inclined to smile around her. Not for any particular reason, of course, because how could there be a reason? They'd only just met. Yet somehow, something about her stirred up the thoughts at the back of his head, and as he waded through his mind trying to reach them, he was becoming alarmingly aware of the proper lack of so many little things that should have been there, but weren't.

He shook his head and gripped his temples, letting out a heavy sigh. Maybe he should go back and speak to Clara again. Perhaps it was just the fact that he was still somewhat hungover (at least, he felt hungover, though he couldn't even remember what he'd had the previous night), but his mind was filled with fog. She seemed to lift it, if only for a moment.

John turned and headed back the way he'd come, hoping he could find his way back, since he seemed to have been on autopilot up to this point in time. The streets all looked the same, vaguely familiar and yet not. Blimey, what had he had to drink? It messed with his head pretty bad, whatever it was. He shook himself out and continued on his way.

He spotted Clara a few minutes later, sitting on the front stoop of the flat next to a mug of something, her damp hair slung over a towel on one shoulder and a small paperback novel in her hands. She hadn't seen him from where he stood at the far corner of the street, but he could see her plain as day, knees scrunched up to support her book, smiling faintly at something she had read. He found himself suddenly unable to go up to her, content instead to just look at her from afar. It sounded creepy in theory, but he tried to convince himself he most definitely wasn't being creepy, just curious. Because there she was—one crazy night, and all of a sudden his life didn't make any sense anymore, and yet _she_ did. She was the one impossible thing around him that clicked in his mind, but for some reason when he wanted to go up and talk to her, words failed. He hovered where he was for a few more seconds, noticing another man approaching the flat. He walked past Clara, exchanged a formality with her (John couldn't hear exactly what was said, but apparently the bloke was Nina's boyfriend) and then walked up the steps and entered the flat. Clara gazed after him for a second, a worried expression on her face, and then took a sip from her drink and went back to the book.

He had almost steeled himself to go and talk to her when her gaze suddenly flickered up. Panicking, John ducked back behind the corner of the shop he was standing against, heart pounding in his chest, hoping she hadn't noticed him staring at her. He chided himself and took a deep breath, then stepped back out, deciding to go talk to her right then and there. To his surprise, when he emerged back out from the shadows, she had left her book and her mug on the step and was walking towards him, a curious expression on her face.

He faltered back a few steps as she approached him, trying to force a nonchalant greeting. "Um, hello! Clara, right?" There was no doubt in his mind that her name was definitely Clara, of course, but he felt more at ease pretending he was still fuzzy about the night before.

For some reason, his falter seemed to upset her. The smallest shadow of a frown crossed her face before she was standing on the pavement in front of him, chin tilted up so she could see him better, and a look of slight confusion in her warm brown eyes. "So," She said, the tiniest hint of a smirk gracing her lips, "I saw you standing here a moment ago."

His entire face flushed, and he reached up and hastily straightened the bow tie he was wearing. "Well, uh, yes. I came back, you see, because I needed to ask you a question." _Or just see you again._ Something about her intrigued him, made him want to be around her. He just wasn't entirely sure what.

"Really?" Her smile widened slightly. "Well, ask away."

He coughed nervously. "I don't… suppose… you know where my flat is?"

She stared at him for a second, her eyebrows slowly creeping towards her hairline and her mouth barely agape.

_That's it,_ John thought to himself. _She thinks I'm loony. _

Suddenly, Clara took a step away from him and covered her mouth, letting out a very un-ladylike snort of laughter, and then collapsing into giggles. Thinking that he perhaps hadn't screwed things up as badly as he'd initially assumed, he let a hesitant grin cross his face. Finally, she stopped and straightened up, pushing her hair out of her face with a small huff of air. "Sorry," She apologized, though she was still smiling a little bit. "It's just a bit funny that you've completely forgotten where you live."

"Oi!" He pointed an accusing finger at her face. "It is _not_ funny. It isn't! Blimey, I've been wandering about for almost an hour and I can't remember where I live. Is that even normal?" He dropped his hand to his side, his forehead creasing in thought.

Clara rolled her eyes and chuckled again. "Sorry," She said finally. "I have no idea where your flat is. Have you really forgotten?"

He nodded seriously. "Yes," He replied honestly. "I have quite actually forgotten where I live."

"Well, then." Clara stepped up beside him and glanced around. "I'll help you out."

"Really?" He was surprised by her sudden offer.

"Sure. If we wander around long enough, someone's bound to recognize you." Clara shrugged slightly and started off down the street, her hair still tucked over her shoulder on top of the towel.

John hesitated for a moment, his mouth half-open in the beginnings of asking a question he didn't actually have, and then finally closed it and started after her, figuring it would be worth a shot. Besides, maybe he could strike up a conversation with Clara, maybe remember why she seemed so familiar to him. In any case, it couldn't hurt.


	5. Chapter 4

The fact that the Doctor had come to find her was a huge relief to Clara. She tried to tell herself that it was because she had been worried he'd leave, get lost and she'd never find him again, which would cause a whole new set of problems, but she knew that it was actually because she would miss him terribly. It was selfish, but the first thing that jumped to mind when she thought of losing track of him was how her life would be affected, not the entire universe.

He was walking beside her now, waving his hands animatedly as he tried to explain his current situation to her. All she could do was laugh lightly at how determined he was to convince her that he wasn't nuts, because she knew exactly what had happened. "I think someone might have slipped something into my drink, or—or—or something. I honestly can't imagine what happed, really, but I assume it's just temporary memory loss because that's the only thing that would make—" He broke off suddenly and glanced down at her. "And I'm rambling, aren't I? I think I do that a lot. Yes. Yes I do. I ramble quite a lot. Oh, that's brilliant!" He laughed gleefully.

Clara almost rolled her eyes at him, but seeing him jump about and talk excitedly at her, just like he had before he'd become human and lost his memory, was a pleasant surprise. She had imagined the Doctor as many things while he was human, but a boring, normal old bloke was not one of them. To see just a hint of his old self peeking through was a relief to her. "So," She began, glancing around as they walked, "Do you have any idea at all where your flat is?" Admittedly, she'd realized they would probably run into this problem sooner or later. The Doctor was _not_ good at planning ahead, and it had probably just slipped his mind in preparation for some kind of situation popping up that would require him to have a flat.

He coughed nervously and reached up to, once again, straighten his already-straightened bowtie. "No," He admitted. "Not really. That's what I was hoping you could help me with. Did I tell you anything last night, like where I live or anything?"

She chuckled. "No, sorry."

"Really?" He sounded shocked. "Nothing at all? Really?" He waved his hands about, a bit uselessly. "But I would have thought…" He trailed off, sounding more exasperated with himself than with her. "_Really?_"

"Really really." Clara smiled at him and shook her head. "If I remembered anything, I woulda told you."

"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." The Doctor heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair, something she'd seen him do many times before when he was nervous.

They turned the corner onto a new street. "Anything coming back to you?" Clara prompted gently, hoping some fake memory would eventually surface for him and give them at least a vague idea of where to go.

"No, no, I don't think so," he replied, scanning the streets curiously.

"Well, keep looking maybe something will come back—" Clara dropped off mid-sentence as she heard a noise coming from behind them, like sandpaper scratching against the pavement. Hoping the Doctor wouldn't notice, she glanced back over her shoulder and caught sight of a young woman shuffling along about two meters behind them. Maybe it was the ragged, limping way she walked, or the milky whiteness of her eyes, or the green tinge to her hands, but Clara remembered suddenly what the Doctor had said about the aliens they were hiding from. _They're blind._ Clara panicked, wondering how the Time Lord had somehow forgotten to tell her that they were shapeshifters, and realized quickly that she needed to get the now-human Doctor away from the creature as quickly as possible.

He had, however, noticed her sudden change in behavior. "Clara?" He asked, coming to a stop and glancing over at her curiously. "Everything all right?"

"Uh, it's… fine," She replied slowly, flicking her gaze up to his for a second and giving him the most convincing smile she could muster before looking up and down the street for something, anything. She noticed a young boy sitting on the stoop almost at the other end of the street and pointed. "You should go talk to him," She said quickly. "Maybe he'll recognize you."

"Oh. Well." The Doctor peered into the distance and then shrugged. "Worth a shot, isn't it?" He grinned at her, completely convinced by her hasty cover-up, and jogged down the sidewalk.

Clara heaved a breath and stopped walking, turning instead to confront the blind woman still stumbling steadily towards her. Now that she was much closer, Clara could indeed see that the skin on her fingers and hands was composed of tiny, greenish scales, like they were in the creature's natural form. Her eyes were white, but as she approached, Clara got the distinct feeling she was being watched anyways.

She forced a tone of steadiness into her voice. "Can I help you?" She asked.

The disguised alien clearly was not put off by her show of courage. Instead, she raised one reptilian finger and stroked it across Clara's cheek, the tiny scales catching on her skin. "My dear," She crooned, her voice thick and sweet as honey. "I sense Time Lord on you. Have you rewritten your biology again, my sweet?"

When she opened her mouth, the smell of her breath hit Clara right in the face—while the creature's voice was smooth and flowery, its breath was anything but. It reeked of decay and death so strongly that it was all Clara could do to keep from stumbling backwards, gagging. Instead, she cursed inwardly. _He said they could sense Time Lords. Can they really sense the tinge of it on me? I showered and everything!_ But despite her inner monologue of panic, she had to keep up the story well enough so that the thing would leave before the Doctor came bouncing back, almost definitely carrying a much stronger Time Lord sense than she. "I don't know what a Time Lord is, ma'am. Are your hands okay? They don't look too good."

The alien withdrew its hand, letting out a small, irritable hiss. "I'm quite fine." It stayed for a second, its blind eyes staring right into Clara's, before it evidently decided that she was not the Time Lord they were searching for. It turned and began to shuffle back down the street, and Clara distinctly heard it muttering about the 'damn things—always leaving traces of themselves on everywhere and everything'.

Clara let out a long sigh of relief, and turned just as the Doctor came bounding back, looking excited about something. "Hello again!" She greeted him. "Any luck?"

He stopped and stared at her for a second, wide-eyed. "Luck with… what?"

"With _finding your flat,_" Clara reminded him, a trace of exasperated amusement entering her tone. "What were you talking to him about?"

"Oh! Right! That!" The Doctor smacked one hand to his forehead, and then pointed excitedly at his bowtie. "But it was almost as good! I went down to speak to him and he said he liked my bowtie, and I told him that yes, that was because bowties were cool, and then he said his mum was trying to teach him how to tie a bowtie but he still couldn't learn, so then I had to teach him. It was fun!"

"You weren't even gone for that long," Clara responded incredulously. "How did you teach a little boy to tie a bowtie that quickly?"

"I don't know!" He grinned. "Brilliant, isn't it? It's like I have superhuman bowtie-tying skills!"

Clara shook her head at his childish excitement, but couldn't stop herself from chuckling a little. "All right, well since you were absolutely no help, we'll just have to keep looking."

He nodded in agreement and kept walking. Clara made to follow him, but was interrupted by yet another surprise coming from behind them as she heard footsteps and someone call out a name.

"Doctor?"

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**a/n: Hey! If you made it this far, I'd really appreciate a review. Just a few words, it doesn't take long and it makes me more motivated to update! That's all, hope you liked the chapter and happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers! c:**


	6. Chapter 5

The Doctor, who obviously didn't recognize the sound of his Time Lord title being called, continued walking. Clara, however, gritted her teeth and froze in her tracks, looking around for the source of the voice. Finally, she spotted a man a short distance away, who was jumping up and down and waving one arm in the air, while the other cradled a baby. He was still shouting. "Doctor! Doctor! Over here!"

Figuring that the Doctor would soon enough realize that the man was talking to him, as the street was mostly deserted, Clara broke away from his side and ran across the street to where the stranger was standing. He looked confused as she almost flung herself into him in an attempt to clamp her hand over his mouth. He looked startled, and Clara meant to calmly ask who he was and explain exactly what was going on, but instead, it came out more as, "Who the hell are you you know what never mind we don't have time for this will you bloody_ stop yelling_ he's erased his memories so we can escape aliens so if I take my hand off your mouth will you quit drawing attention to the scene?"

He gave her a wide-eyed look of confusion, but nodded. Clara sighed and removed her hand, wiping it on the skirt of Nina's that she was wearing. The man nervously tugged at his shirt and adjusted the whimpering child in his arms. He was young, though probably older than Clara herself, with brown hair and the slightest traces of a beard. When Clara hesitantly took a step back from him, he visibly relaxed—clearly, her sudden movement had startled him. "What's going on?" He asked in a low voice, eyebrows raised. "And who the hell are you?"

"Oh. Sorry. Um…" Clara stuck her hand out, a little awkwardly. "I'm Clara."

He shook her hand warmly. "Craig," He replied. "I take it you know the Doctor?"

She nodded, a small smile slipping onto her lips. "Yeah," She confirmed. "I travel with him. What about you? Do you know him?"

He chuckled. "We've had a few adventures," He admitted. "I never traveled with him, though. Did you say he erased his memories?"

Returning to the important subject, Clara nodded vigorously. "We're on the run right now," She informed him. "Well, sorta." She risked a glance back at the Doctor, who had taken notice of their conversation and was slowly wandering towards them, taking his time. "He has no idea who he really is. He had to use this… this thing to turn himself human."

"Really?" Craig's eyebrows drew together and he met Clara's eyes with intense curiousity.

"Yeah." Noticing his expression, she added, "Why?"

"It's just… A few months back, I received a letter from him." Craig reached into one pocket and drew out a tattered envelope, which he handed to Clara. It was empty, but she recognized the distinct pen scrawl of the Time Lord's handwriting. "He said one day he might show up with someone else, his memory completely wiped, and if that ever happened I'd need to find him and tell him that he lived in the flat above mine." He let out a huff of laughter. "It sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I've no idea who owns the upstairs place—been empty for years."

A grin spread across Clara's face. "Oh, that's _brilliant,_" She mumbled to herself, staring down at the envelope. She glanced back up at Craig and handed the paper back. "Yes. Okay, listen, because he's on his way over right now. His name is John Smith. He lives in the flat above yours, and he's a good friend. Last night, he told you he was going down to the pub, and he didn't show up again this morning, but it's happened before so you didn't really worry. His mind is kind of making things up as it goes along, I think, so if you tell him that I think he'll probably believe you."

Craig shook his head. "It's like I'm never done with him," He said under his breath, though he sounded amused. Adjusting the baby in his arms, he walked past Clara and waved an arm. "John!" He called out, sounding very convincing. "There you are! Had too much to drink again, have you?"

Clara peered out from behind the other man and saw that the Doctor looked slightly confused, though a spark of recognition was alight in his eyes. "Ah!" He said unsurely. "Yes, yes, I think so. I—I must have."

"Thought so! Soph was worried when you didn't come home last night, but I told her it was probably same as usual. Gone who-knows-where, and I said you'd probably show up. And here you are!"

The Doctor blinked uncertainly. "Home?" He asked slowly.

"Yes! The flat above mine!" Craig stared at the Doctor for a moment, as if waiting for him to react, and then leaned over to Clara and said in a stage whisper, "This happens to him sometimes." He straightened up. "John, it's _me_. Craig Owens? Your downstairs neighbor?"

That seemed to work. The Doctor smiled and stopped in front of them. "Yes!" He replied enthusiastically. "Of course I remember! Sorry, I think someone spiked my drink last night, eh, mate?"

Craig chuckled. "Isn't that how it always is?" He asked. He was distracted at that point by the baby in his arms, who had started to cry.

It was a successful diversion from the current topic for Clara, as well. She came over to coo at the little child. "Who's this?" She asked Craig.

He smiled and bounced the infant in his arms. "This is Lila," He told her. "Just six months."

"She's precious!" Clara leaned down and grinned at the baby girl. Lila gurgled and reached up to grab at her hair. "Is she your only one?"

"Second," Craig corrected. "Alfie's three. They're cute, all right, but god…" He trailed off, bouncing Lila in his arms. "They just cry _all_ the time, and Alfie's still going through his 'terrible threes' phase." He shook his head. "Soph says it might be time to hire a nanny, but it's gotten a bit harder to find someone trustworthy these days."

Clara saw the opening, and jumped for it. "Well, I need a job," She started, "And I used to be a nanny. If you wanted to talk it over with your wife…" She trailed off and raised her eyebrows at Craig.

The man shifted his daughter in his arms thoughtfully, then reached his free hand into one pocket and pulled out a card. "Call me later this evening," He said under his breath, "Once I've got 'John' over here all figured out. You've still got a bit of explaining to do."

"What are we whispering about?" The ex-Time Lord himself had joined the conversation, leaning over dramatically so he was just about as tall as Clara. "I love whispering!"

"Nothing," Clara told him smoothly. "Just job possibilities." She straightened up and linked her hands together thoughtfully. "Well, John, since it seems you've figured out where you live, I'd better be heading back to my flat." She nodded at Craig, who discreetly raised one hand to his ear in a telephone mime. She nodded. "Bye, John. Nice to meet you, Craig."

Craig waved as she turned away. The Doctor called out, "Bye, Clara!" and she found herself almost walking too slowly, hoping that he'd say something else. Something like 'thanks', or even 'hey, maybe since you dragged me home unconscious and I think I might recognize you, do you want to go get coffee sometime?', but he said nothing. She sped up her pace and forced herself not to be too disappointed as she took the quiet walk back to her own flat.

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**Little note: I got 8 reviews on the last chapter, which was great! That's the most I've gotten on a chapter to date, so thank you so much! If you liked this one (or any of the ones before this), please don't be afraid to drop a few words of feedback, because I love reading them and I get really motivated to update. So, tell me what you think! I'd appreciate it. c:**


	7. Chapter 6

Clara slipped the key Nina had given her out of her pocket and unlocked the door, planning on just going back in and taking another nap—she felt drained, despite not really having done much other than walk around and confront a possibly deadly alien. However, when she walked inside, she was surprised to see her flatmate sobbing on the sofa, a pile of tissues on the floor around her. Nina glanced up as the door creaked open, and offered a teary, "Hey."

"Hey," Clara replied slowly, closing the door behind her and coming to sit next to her on the couch. "Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right?" Nina sniffled, then laughed pathetically. "I've drank nearly a whole bottle of wine since you left. I am so sodding drunk and I still can't stop crying."

"What happened?" Kicking her shoes off under the table, Clara pulled her legs up onto the cracked leather seat and put an arm around Nina. "Is this something to do with your boyfriend?"

She let out a watery chuckle. "How'd you guess?" She readjusted herself on the cushion and sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "We had a huge argument. I don't know if we're still together, and now I feel like I'm going to be sick on top of all of it."

Clara bit her lip, thinking for a moment. Finally, she retracted her arm from around the other woman's shoulders and got off the couch. She held out her hand. "You know, whenever I'm having a rotten day, a hot shower always cheers me up."

Nina shuffled hesitantly on the sofa, adjusting her position so she was halfway to sitting normally, and appeared to be mulling it over. "All right," She mumbled. "That sounds pretty nice." She took Clara's offered hand and stumbled to her feet, swaying slightly.

Clara caught her and helped her drunk flatmate down the hall and to the tiny bath at the far end. Nina loosened her vice-like grip on Clara's arm and practically fell over, grabbing onto the doorframe to remain upright. "I got this," She slurred, waving one hand towards Clara. "Go away."

Clara offered up a small smile and turned to go back down the hall. She heard the door slam and the sound of staggering footsteps, before the shower started up. Briefly, she wondered if letting someone that drunk take a shower was a good idea, but at least if she got sick it would be easy to clean up. After stepping briefly back into the living room to clean up the pile of tissues, Clara retired to her room and once again pulled the pocket watch from its spot nestled against her hip in her trousers. She fell back onto the bed, her hair spread across the mattress, and traced the etchings with one finger, marveling at how, even though she had thought before that it didn't work, it seemed to pulse gently beneath her touch. Thinking it almost exactly matched the four-beat pulse of a Time Lord's hearts, Clara clutched it tightly in her grasp, dropped her hands to her chest, and once again fell asleep.

Craig reclined in the cracked sofa he and Sophie had brought from his old flat, rocking a sleeping Lila in one arm as the other held the Doctor's letter open in front of him. Like he'd told that girl, Clara, he'd gotten it a few months ago with absolutely no context, crammed into his mailbox with too many stamps and loopy penmanship it took him an irritatingly long amount of time to decipher. Still, in his confusion he'd read it many times over. Now, as he hummed the last traces of a lullaby stuck in his head and listened to the Time Lord-turned-human blundering around upstairs. He found himself reading the note again, even though he'd practically memorized it by then.

_Craig! Hello, Craig! I hope this letter works. I don't quite understand your post system. I would get Clara to help me, but she's not here right now so I think I'll just make do on my own. Probably. If this letter reaches you very far in the future, I probably messed up. Or a long time in the past. If you aren't Craig, please burn this letter._

_ But if you are Craig, hello! Again. This is a very important letter, because I think I might eventually need your help. It's hard to explain. Bit timey-wimey. Don't ask questions! There's a chance I'm going to one day show up on the streets with a companion (hopefully) and I'll be human and have no real memories, and that's when I'll need you to help. I've purchased the flat above yours in case that happens. I might—_

The next part was several lines of writing which had been heavily scribbled over in the same ink. Craig had tried to decipher it at one point, figuring it might be important, but whatever it had said had evidently been useless enough for the Doctor to practically rip the paper crossing it out. The next part it picked up at was completely random, as if he'd just removed a chunk of the letter and forgotten to rewrite it.

-_don't let me eat pears. I hate pears. I think. Don't let me eat them anyways. Actually, you know, now that I think about it, I think Clara's the one who did all the official stuff with the flat. She seemed rather confused about it, couldn't figure out why I needed her help with a flat. Anyways, that's definitely all you need to know. If this ever happens, I'm counting on you, Craig! Wait hold on, it was Amelia who bought the flat for me. That's right. _

_-The Doctor_

Upon finishing the rereading of the letter once again, Craig set it down and rubbed his fingers in circles against his temples. He wondered if the most important section of the letter was the part that had been scribbled out—the part that had probably contained the most crucial information. He figured it probably was.

Craig was distracted then by the sound of a loud shout from the hall, followed by Sophie's high-pitched squeal of surprise. Lila awoke in his arms and started wailing, so he jumped to his feet and ran to the door to see what was going on.

His wife was standing just inside the door, the pink puffball of her keys still hanging limply in one hand. She was staring up the stairs, eyes wide. Craig followed her gaze to see the Doctor (John?), standing on the landing, his hair in a mess and an electric toothbrush in his hand. Craig wondered why he kept doing that.

When Sophie saw him open the door, she turned to look at him. "What's the Doctor doing here?" She asked, sounding confused.

The aforementioned jumped down a few steps. "Hello!" He said brightly. "Sorry, the Doctor? Doctor who? No one else is 'round."

Craig grimaced and grabbed a hold of Sophie's hand. "There's been a slight development," He hissed to her under the sound of Lila's upset screaming. "Come on, I'll explain it to you inside. And don't call him the Doctor."

He saw Sophie shake her head in confusion, but she followed him inside and took Lila from him, cooing softly to the crying baby until she quieted and burbled happily, reaching up towards the strands of blonde hair that framed Sophie's face. She chuckled, bouncing the baby on her hip and looking towards Craig. "So…" She started uneasily, giving him one of her trademark uncomfortable smiles, "What, exactly, is going on?"

"It's a long story." Craig heaved a sigh and sat back down on the couch. "This might take a little while."

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**A/n: Hey! Sorry, this one's a little shorter, but I kind of needed to plow through that one, so it'll get moving again soon. I figured I might as well finish this one because it's been a while since I updated. Sorry! Anyways, if you liked it/have opinions/suggestions/thoughts, please drop a review in! I'd love to read your feedback, and it really motivates me to finish. Thanks!**


	8. Chapter 7

When Clara awoke, it was to the sound of someone rapping softly on the door of her room. She yawned and pushed herself up on one elbow, realizing as her back cracked painfully that she'd once again managed to fall asleep at the edge, her legs hanging off to the floor in a very uncomfortable position. She quickly sat up and tucked the fob watch back into her pocket as Nina opened the door and stuck her head in, letting in with her a pleasant aroma of cooking food. "Mornin'," She greeted Clara. "Did I wake you?"

Clara ran a hand through her disheveled hair and yawned again. "Been up for hours," She lied. "What time is it?"

"'Round eight."

"At night?"

"In the morning." Nina grimaced slightly. "I figured we both needed the sleep. Also, I made breakfast."

Clara's stomach growled at the mention of food. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's more like sorry-I-got-drunk-and-puked-outside-your-door-in-the-middle-of-the-night-breakfast," She admitted. "I cleaned it up, but I thought it might have woken you."

"Oh." Clara stood up and stretched, having no memory of being up in the middle of the night. "No, I must have slept through it."

"That's a relief." Her flatmate gave a cautious grin. "Anyways, I do have to leave for work in a few, so should I just leave yours on the drain?"

"That's be great." As she dragged her hands down her face in an effort to wake herself up, Clara suddenly remembered that she had completely slept through calling Craig. She groaned and raked her fingers through her hair, waiting until Nina had shut her door again to straighten her rumpled clothes and follow her. She was halfway out of her room when there was the sound of the squeaking hinges on the front door and a surprised shout from Nina.

Clara ran out into the front room to see Nina hunched over in the doorway. "Nina?" She asked. "What is it?"

"Uh…" Though Clara couldn't see whatever Nina was looking at through the girl's poufy skirt blocking most of the view, she could hear a crinkling sound, like a bit of paper. "Oh! They're for you." There was a clinking noise and Nina stood up and turned around, and Clara gaped to see that she was holding a glass vase full of flowers, a tiny card in ribbon around it. "Henry must have left this for you."

"Really?" Clara asked, coming over, a little shocked. "Why do you say that?"

"Here." Nina handed the vase to Clara, who took it and stumbled back a little under the surprising weight of the thing. She staggered over to the coffee table and set it down, then crouched to unfold the tag.

_Thank you for your help yesterday! x_

"It's not signed," Clara noted. "Why do you assume it would be from him?"

"Well, you said you helped him with the sink yesterday, right?" Nina explained.

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's a thanks for the help. Don't worry about it, he leaves me thank-you gifts when I help him out, too. He doesn't mean anything by it."

"Oh." Clara smiled down at the flowers, and leaned in to sniff them lightly. "That was nice of him, then."

Nina huffed under her breath and straightened up. "I'll tell him thanks for you on the way out," She offered, grabbing her bag off the couch and heading towards the still-open door.

"Thanks," Clara called after her, directing her attention back to the vase of flowers before her when she heard the door close. Eventually, she decided to take them back into her room, which brightened up the dull colors a little bit. She set them on the dresser, where the warm light streamed in and made the silky white petals glow. She wondered how Henry had known that white roses were her favorite flower. Maybe it was just a lucky guess on his part, but it was a sweet gesture. She found the tiny hints of a goofy smile growing on her face, but quickly pushed them back down. She couldn't form attachments, not right now, not ever. She had to be taking care of the Doctor in his weakened state, and especially making sure that he didn't go around messing things up or, well… Getting killed. No distractions allowed.

After eating the eggs and bacon Nina had left her, Clara sat down on the couch, pulled out Craig's wrinkled card from her pocket, and dialed him on her mobile. He picked up after the third ring, accompanied by the faint sound of crying in the background. "Hello?" He asked. "Who's this?"

"Oh, um…" Clara trailed off. "It's, uh, me. The Doctor's friend."

"Clara!" She heard relief in his voice. "I was a bit worried when you didn't call last night. What with the fact that there are apparently aliens around, and all that."

"Oh." She gave a small chuckle. "No, no, I'm fine. I was just exhausted, is all. So, um…" She ran out of things to say, and then realized she had actually forgotten why she was supposed to call. "What was this about, again? Sorry, think I'm still a bit sleepy."

"You were going to explain to me the current situation," He reminded her gently. "I'm fuzzy on the details."

"Right." Clara let herself sink further back into the couch, running her free hand through her disheveled hair and taking a breath. "Well, where do you need me to start?"

"First of all, you." She heard a slight crackling and soft murmurs from the other end, and the baby's wailing quieted significantly. "You said you travel with him, right?"

"Yes." She confirmed. "Full time, as of recently."

"Then you're friends?"

The words made a lump form in her throat. "We were before," She replied carefully. "I'm not sure about now."

He hesitated for so long that Clara wondered if he was still there. "Close friends?"

"I'd like to think so."

"But… Just friends?"

Clara took a moment to process the implications, and her eyes widened. "Oh!" She said, just a little too loudly. "Yes, yes. Of course. Just friends. Nothing more."

"So..." Clearly, Craig had misinterpreted her brief panic, and was now tiptoeing around the situation at hand when there was no need to (Or, at least, that was what she was trying to convince herself). "Relationships aren't something I have to watch out for? Like, he's allowed to go on dates and such?"

She found herself stifling a chuckle. "Quite honestly, Craig, I'm not sure you'd be able to stop him."

"Well yes, but you know what I mean!" He sounded exasperated. "I shouldn't discourage it?"

She fell silent, gnawing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't think so," She replied slowly, "but on the other hand, this situation isn't going to last more than a month, hopefully. So it would be bad for him to form attachments."

Her argument apparently convinced him, because he replied a few moments later with, "No dating, then. Probably."

"Right." Clara forced the lump in her throat down, wondering why it was such a touchy subject with herself. She had been over this dozens—no,_ hundreds—_of times, and always it had ended with the same conclusion: Don't even _think_ about it. So she hadn't. Convincing herself that she wasn't saying what she was out of jealousy was hard enough as was. It wasn't even like she would be _jealous_ jealous of anyone he were to date while a human. It would probably, if anything, be that she felt like she wasn't doing a good enough job of being his companion. If he felt he needed someone else, what was her purpose?

Craig coughed quietly on the other end, and Clara realized she must have been silent for a good while. "Anyways," He continued, "Do you know what you're running from, exactly? A description might help."

"Well…" Clara trailed off.

Craig, hearing the grimace in her voice, groaned. "What is it?"

"They're shapeshifters," She replied finally. "Pretty convincing humans, but there are a few ways you can tell the difference."

"Like what?" The phone crackled slightly.

"Well, they're blind, for one. White eyes." She searched her memory for every possible thing she could dredge up about the one she'd met the previous day. "Sweet voices, but their breath smells disgusting. The skin of their hands is composed of tiny green scales. That's it, I think."

"So any sweet old blind lady in gloves could be an alien?" Craig sounded irritated.

"That's the gist of it, yeah," Clara replied. "No other traits that I noticed."

"Wonderful. That's just wonderful." Craig fell silent, and Clara swore she could almost see him, eyes squeezed shut, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. That was how she would have taken the news, anyways. "Thanks for the information though, Clara. That'll make my bit a little easier."

"Not a problem," She responded, giving a small nod even though it wasn't like he could see her.

"Moving onto a different subject," He continued, "You said you were looking for a job?"

Clara straightened up. "Yes," She replied quickly. "I am."

"You were a nanny before?"

"For a while."

"Would you be willing to come over this evening, maybe meet my wife and the kids, and consider taking a day job working for us?"

Clara grinned. "That'd be wonderful," She replied. "I really need this job. What time should I come?"

"Oh, just drop by 'round five. Does that sound all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds lovely!" Clara bit back another smile. She absolutely adored little kids—besides, if she were working right below the Doctor's flat, it would be easier to keep an eye on him. It was pretty much a win-win.

Craig gave her his address, and sensing the conversation was over, Clara was about to hang up the phone. She said farewell and was just pulling it away from her ear when Craig said one last thing. "By the way, did you like the flowers?"

Clara froze, her finger halfway to the 'end call' button. "The—The flowers?" She asked, very carefully, putting the mobile back where it had been a moment ago.

"Yes, the flowers. He said he wanted to thank you for helping him figure out where he lived, and said you looked like the kind of person who liked white roses."

Clara's jaw dropped. She had told him once, months ago, that they were her favorite flower. After all that, had he really remembered? "I—I didn't realize they were from him," She said finally. "I thought they were from my upstairs neighbor. I helped him out with something the other day, and Nina said that he always thanked people with a few flowers whenever they helped him out, but I didn't…" She trailed off. "Really?"

She could almost hear the smile in his voice, and it made her cheeks flush with heat. "Really." He confirmed. "Glad you got them. See you tonight?"

"S—see you tonight." Clara heard the _click_ as he hung up, but she sat there for at least another ten minutes, staring at the wall, trying to process the fact that the Doctor. Had. Given. Her. Flowers. And not just any flowers. _Roses._ A little thank-you card, a grateful phone call, or anything else wouldn't have set off panic bells in her head, but flowers? That was very uncharacteristic of the Doctor. She'd assumed that he'd be sort of the same person while they were waiting out the alien invasion, but this? This was something drastically different than anything he'd do in his right mind. And if he was a normal human now, did that mean he actually understood the significance of human actions?

Clara shrugged the thought off. It was like Craig had said—just a thank-you for her help the previous day. Still, as she went to clean up the breakfast dishes and take a shower, she couldn't help but wonder if this meant she was going to have a whole new level of problems to deal with.

* * *

**a/n: As you could probably guess by the amount of time this took, I had a pretty difficult time finishing this one-Surprising, because it's one of the longer chapters. Anyways, please leave a review with any feedback you have! Reviews fuel me, and they don't take too long to write. Happy finals week! (or panic week, if you're me)**


	9. Chapter 8

Clara showed up a few minutes later than planned, nervously twisting the hem of Nina's dress between her fingers. She still had yet to get her hands on some clothes of her own—her only outfit was burned from being in the TARDIS and she wasn't going to bring the Maitlands into the whole situation, so the result was that she was going to be borrowing Nina's clothes until she could get her hands on some of her own. The other woman had insisted she didn't mind, and had seemed to particularly enjoy helping Clara pick out what to wear that evening. "You have to look sophisticated and not too show-offy, since this is a nanny job," She had said as she went through her closet, "but at the same time, it's gotta be cute. Especially since you might see John there."

Clara had been perched at the edge of Nina's bed, watching with amusement as she fussed over every detail about Clara's outfit. She had somewhat regretted telling her flatmate that her new prospective job was right below where the Doctor was now living, but there was no going back now. She just had to remember not to let slip about the roses, or Nina would have a ball.

"By the way," Nina had added nonchalantly, "I told Henry thanks from you."

_Oops._

She glanced back and raised her eyebrows at Clara. "He said they weren't from him."

"Really?" Clara tried to look surprised. "Well, who are they from, then?"

"I think you know." Nina had grinned at her. "Yeah?"

Clara had sighed and scooted back on the bed. "Fine," She had given in, flopping backwards. "They're from John."

"I knew it!"

"_But,_" Clara had interrupted, "They were just a thank-you. Like they would have been if they were from Henry."

Nina had made a soft _tsk_ sound at that, in a way that made Clara sense she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "Whatever you say, dear."

In the end, they had decided on a knee-length red dress that was tempted to hang off Clara's shoulder because she was a little smaller than Nina. Now, standing in the chilly air at the front door of Craig's flat, she was tugging the sleeve back up her arm and wondering if she should have brought a jacket. She reached into her pocket (thank goodness for dresses with pockets) to check that the fob watch was still there, and felt the familiar smooth surface beneath her fingertips. Reassured, she knocked lightly on the door and was greeted moments later as a pretty blonde woman opened the door, bouncing a young boy on her hip and smiling widely.

"Hello!" She greeted her. "You must be Clara."

"That's me." She smiled and shook the woman's hand. "You're Sophie, right?"

"I am." Sophie stepped to the side and pulled the door open a little wider. "Come in! Craig and Lila are inside."

"Thanks." Clara slipped past the other woman and into the hallway. To the left was a door that probably led into their flat, but in front of her was a staircase, much like the one that led up to Henry's flat at home. There was a light coming from under the door, and she could hear what sounded like loud, off-key singing coming from behind it.

Sophie noticed her gaze and followed it. "You know him, right?" She asked softly. "I mean, not him—the way he is now—but like, him before? The Doctor?"

Clara gave a tiny nod. "Yeah." Glancing over at Sophie, she gave her the crooked hint of a smile. "I'm sorta supposed to be his babysitter while he's in his current… state."

The blonde woman chuckled as she opened the door to her and Craig's flat. "Well, you'll be right below him, so that should make things a bit easier for you."

"I suppose so." Clara stepped into the room and was greeted by Craig, who had baby Lila in a sling around his middle and was stirring something on the stove. She waved and said hello, and then turned as Sophie set the child she had been carrying down and took his hand, walking him slowly over to her.

"So," Sophie started, "This is Alfie. He's three."

Clara crouched down so she was at eye level with the boy. "Hello there, Alfie."

He had a round face and big brown eyes that widened considerably at her. Wordlessly, he let go of his mother's hand and ducked behind her legs, peeking out nervously.

Sophie chuckled and rubbed the top of his head. "He's a bit shy at first, but he'll warm right up to you, I'm sure."

Clara straightened up with a smile. "Little kids can be like that," She agreed. "So what would my hours be?"

Craig joined the conversation from his place by the stove. "You'd be here Monday to Friday, from 'round eight in the morning to half past four in the afternoon."

She nodded. "That'll work."

"Here," Sophie started, "I'll give you a tour, and explain what you'll need to do during the day. They're both pretty low-maintenance kids, but Lila's a baby and that comes with its own set of difficulties. Do you have any experience with infants?"

"Some," Clara replied. She'd done lots of babysitting in her life, and out of all those years she'd probably looked after a dozen or so infants.

The blonde woman gave a small chuckle. "That's good enough. Besides, Craig trusts the Doctor, so anyone the Doctor trusts is good by me."

Clara followed Sophie through another few rooms as they finished the tour, and then Craig shouted from the kitchen that supper was ready and their tour came to an end. Sophie led them back out of the hall, Alfie clutching onto her hand tightly. Every few moments, Clara caught him glancing back at her with wide eyes, and she would smile and then he'd turn away and snuggle closer to his mum's side. Sophie tousled his hair and then picked him up, bouncing him on her hip as she and Clara exited back out into the main room.

Craig was still holding Lila in her sling, but he'd somehow managed to carry a pot of simmering tomato sauce out, which he set on the table next to a bowl of pasta. When they emerged, he glanced up, set the sauce down and heaved a sigh. "Soph, will you take Lila for a while? It's a bit hard to cook with half my arms useless."

Sophie gave a small laugh and shook her head, shrugging the shoulder which was supporting Alfie's head. "I'm a bit full right now, but I'm sure Clara would be willing to."

"Oh! Oh, um, yeah, all right. Of course." Clara bit her bottom lip lightly and held out her arms as Craig gently transferred the snoozing Lila into her arms. The jostling made her wake up, flickering open pretty blue eyes and making her squirm slightly, letting out a shrill cry. Clara winced and gently bounced her, cooing softly. "C'mon, Lila. Don't do this to me, we've gotta get along," She murmured. In response, the baby whimpered softly and reached out chubby, soft hands towards Clara's face.

From beside her, Sophie chuckled. "Don't worry about her," She insisted. "You know babies. They cry a lot, but they warm up to you over time."

"Yeah," Clara replied quietly, though her eyes were still focused on the child in her arms who was now giggling, gazing up at her with big eyes as she put her own hands in her mouth. Clara had forgotten how much she loved babies—they were so tiny and innocent, even though they were a lot of work.

It was after a few moments, when Sophie had finally pried Alfie off her and gotten him to sit quietly in his seat, that Craig carefully took Lila back and put her in her high chair. "Sit down," Craig offered as he pulled out his own chair.

"Thanks." Clara slipped into her seat, hands folded on her lap.

Sophie reached across the table and took the pasta bowl. "So, Clara, tell me—"

Her question was interrupted by a loud clamor from the other end of the room as someone outside knocked repeatedly on the door.

* * *

**A/n: Happy holidays, guys! I'm out for winter break, so I'll definitely be updating more often. Please don't be afraid to leave reviews! They fuel me to write more, and I love reading them. I've already got about 600 words of the next chapter, so expect that one up probably before Christmas!**


	10. Chapter 9

Clara involuntarily stiffened as she recognized the sharp sound—she'd never met anyone but the Doctor who just constantly kept knocking until someone came to the door.

Craig, apparently, recognized it as well, because he rolled his eyes, laughed and said, "One moment."

Clara watched from her place at the table as he crossed to the door and pulled it open, revealing the Doctor—No, John, she once again had to remind herself—standing mid-knock behind it, both fists still raised. He dropped them and a smile broke across his face. "Ah! Craig! Can I borrow a bit of flour?"

Craig merely sighed and crossed his arms. "John, you already borrowed some. What happened to it?"

John spread his hands and brought them back together with a sharp clap. "Ah, yes," He replied, pointing at Craig as he did so. "Yes, that flour. Well, you see, I was almost done, and then there was a rather lovely bird on the windowsill that I wanted to go look at, and then when I came back I realized I'd accidentally put the biscuits into the oven upside down." He made a face. "It's quite messy, but I'll clean it up later."

Clara found herself listening to his explanation with a small smile. It was funny how he had just taken a huge part of himself away and yet he was still so much the same.

Craig chuckled (though it sounded half exasperated) and he said, "Man, you told me that flour was for dinner. You were making biscuits for dinner?"

"Yes. No. No? I don't know. Can I have some more?" John's hands seemed to continuously have a mind of their own as he spoke, adding little flutters to his words seemingly without him noticing half the time.

"Just order something, for God's sake," Craig responded, shaking his head. "You don't eat biscuits for dinner."

"Well yes, I would, but it seems I've forgotten to pay my phone bills, so the phone doesn't work." John's brow crinkled in a way that suggested another hole in his memory that needed to be filled in.

Craig seemed to sense that too, and replied quickly with, "Yes, yes that was about a week ago, sorry. You had forgotten to, I said I'd help you with that but then you never reminded me."

"Yes, yes, you're right." The former Time Lord still looked confused, but he seemed to accept the made-up detail as memory and moved on. "Then maybe could I borrow your phone? To order something?"

Sophie, from her place at the end of the table, took that moment to stand up and join Craig by the door. "You're welcome to eat with us tonight, John," She invited, gesturing behind her to the set table. "We've got plenty."

His eyes lit up. "That would be lovely!" His eyes settled for the first time on Clara, as if he'd only just noticed she was there. "Oh! Oh, um. Hello, Clara."

The way he said her name sounded so close to right that she could almost believe he knew who she was. But no, it was with a touch too much uncertainty, and a bit of unfamiliarity—two things never in his voice when he said her name. Still, she gave him a smile in response. "Hello, John," She replied quietly. "Thanks for the flowers."

Evidently, he hadn't been expecting her to say that. His entire face flushed such a deep scarlet that, had they been under better conditions, she would have burst out laughing. "Oh! Well, you know, you helped me find my flat and all. So I wanted to say thanks."

"Well, they're lovely."

He returned with a small, almost shy-looking smile as he sat down at the empty chair across from her. "I thought you might like them."

_Might as well see what else he remembers._ "Yeah," She replied nonchalantly, though a tiny grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "They're actually my favorite flower. How'd you know?"

"Ah, you know." He suddenly seemed very determined to busy himself with a plate provided to him by Craig. "You just… seemed like the kind of person who'd like white roses."

She smirked, but his eyes were on his food and he didn't notice it. "Well, you were right. They're wonderful."

The dinner lapsed into quiet after that, broken only when Sophie tried to get Alfie to eat some broccoli and he shouted "NO!" and pushed his plate off the table. Sophie groaned in a way that suggested this was not the first time, and pushed back her chair to pick up the plastic dish that had clattered to the ground, dumping its contents spaghetti-first onto the hardwood floor. The doorbell buzzed a moment later.

Craig shook his head as he stood up. "Really? Who's that, then? Were you expecting anyone, Soph?"

"No, I don't think so."

Clara took a sip of water and watched as he went to go check who was outside. Whoever it was had pressed the intercom buzzer from outside, so Craig left the front door to their flat open as he went to check the door to the house. A lock clicked in the hallway and conversation wafted through the doorway a few moments later.

It was hard to hear the exact words being said, but Clara could clearly hear Craig's voice, tone raised questioningly. That was normal, and she was about to go back to dinner, when the stranger's voice floated in and she almost dropped her fork. The smooth, sweet, low sound was too familiar—it was one of the aliens.

"Clara?"

Her heart was hammering in her chest, so hard she didn't hear John the first time he spoke. The second time he said her name, she _did _drop her fork, and forced herself to glance over at him, though half her attention was focused on the half-audible conversation between Craig and the alien. "Mm?" It sounded forcibly nonchalant as she tried her best to pick up the fork again like nothing had happened.

"Are you okay?" He looked concerned, his hazel gaze meeting her shaky brown one intensely.

"F-fine." She set down the fork and took a tiny sip of water. "Why?"

"You went all pale all of a sudden," He replied. "And you dropped your fork."

"I'm fine." Her voice sounded slightly steadier as she set down her glass and pushed away from the table. "One moment."

She could see him watching her closely as she crept towards the open doorway and pressed herself against the wall. He looked confused, but he didn't say anything about it. Clara inched closer to the opening, trying to pick up what was being said.

"I think you've got the wrong house, mate." It was Craig's voice, accompanied by a small chuckle, the tone of lightness overly forced. "I've got no idea what you're on about."

"Don't be ridiculous." This time, the sweet, fluid voice of the creature was underlined by something sharper—almost a hiss trailing after its words. "You _reek _of it. This residence reeks of it! I demand entrance."

Something clicked. With a feeling of absolute dread, Clara remembered the gun-like weapons which the aliens carried. They must have realized she was connected to the Doctor, and weren't going to let anything else slip through their fingers. She bolted away from the wall just as the door slammed and Craig raced in, eyes wide and chest heaving.

"Get the kids!"

Sophie looked up, eyebrows raised, but when her eyes fell on her husband, the new plate for Alfie that she was holding fell back to the counter. "What's going on?"

"Go!" Craig skidded forward and scooped Lila up out of her high chair, despite the little girl's shrieks of shock. "We need to get out. Now!"

Something heavy hit the door. Sophie screamed and dove for Alfie, but the Doctor had already jumped up and grabbed the child out of his chair. He yelled in protest, but quieted as he was passed to Sophie. She held him close to her, dazedly standing still as Craig slammed the door to their flat shut and ran past her, grabbing her hand as he went. They had started off down the hall towards the back door, but Clara was frozen, the thudding against the door echoing the pounding of her heartbeat.

She remembered exactly what that gun had looked like. She remembered the smooth barrel, the rest all cruel, sharp angles. She remembered it perfectly—after all, it was hard to forget something that had been aimed straight at your face, so close you could smell the chemicals inside the weapon. That thing could blow up a door with one shot, so what was the alien playing at? Did it want to scare them off and then come inside, hoping to find the Doctor waiting to fight them?

But he wouldn't stay. He didn't know who he was, and he didn't remember the aliens, so he wouldn't stay. They didn't know that, though. What would happen if they came inside and no one was there? Burn the house down? Shoot them all? She didn't want to know, but suddenly her feet were rooted to the spot as her head roared with panic.

A hand closed around hers. A rough, familiar hand that wrapped its fingers through hers a little too certainly and shook her slightly. She snapped out of her thoughts and met the Doctor's eyes, seeing her own fear echoed in their depths. _The Doctor was afraid._ That alone terrified her more than anything. But when he opened his mouth, his voice sounded almost normal, albeit strangely shaky. "Clara, what are you doing? Run!"

She made an incoherent noise and looked at him uncomprehendingly. The hand closed tighter around hers and he bolted for the hallway, pulling Clara in tow. The familiar sensation snapped her out o it and she broke into a run after him. They skidded down the dark hallway towards the square of faint light where the back door had been left ajar. John, still ahead of her, yanked her through the door and they spilled out onto soft grass, their feet stumbling over each other's in their haste.

Craig and Sophie, holding their children, were across the street under a tree, huddled together. Clara and the Doctor had just gotten out to about the middle of the road when there was a massive crash from behind them. Both stopped in their tracks and turned. From inside the house, the sounds of crashing echoed out into the quiet evening air, followed closely by a sudden, intense silence. Clara felt her heart hammering in her chest as they stood there, hands still linked, unsure of what to do next. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, just as another noise came from the emptied house. It was a bone-jarring screech of anger that was, without a doubt, not of human origin. Moments later, a soft glow began to pool from the windows. Clara just had time to scramble backwards, pulling the Doctor with her, before the entire house erupted in a column of ash.

* * *

**A/n: Merry Christmas! Or happy holidays, if that's not what you celebrate. I wanted to get this one up today, even though it's pretty late and I'm really tired, so I hope you like it! Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated, as it keeps me writing. It only takes a few seconds, and I would love to read anything you have to say!**


	11. Chapter 10

"Are you sure you don't mind this?" Craig asked her for the thirteenth time, as he hovered near the door of Clara's flat, one hand on the door handle.

Clara waved him away with her free hand, the other one clenched tightly in both of Alfie's little fists. "Of course I don't," She replied, taking in the man in front of her in. He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes and all his weigh heavily leaning against the doorway. "You've barely gotten any sleep this week, what with the authorities coming 'round and all the paperwork. What was the story you decided on, anyway?"

Craig ran a hand through his short hair. "Almost the same thing as what actually happened, but with an armed man who thought we were harboring someone he was after. It was the best I could come up with."

"Sounds pretty solid." Clara told him with a small shrug. "In any case, I don't know how much better you could do. Now, hand over Lila and go get some sleep."

He groaned, bouncing the little girl slightly, still looking apprehensive. "Are you really sure? You've got the Doctor to look after and all, and since we can't pay you, you should be looking for a job…"

She waved it away. "I've got a month and a half 'till I need to worry about having a job," She insisted. "And you've just had your house blown up by an alien."

He chuckled. "Yes, well, I guess there's that," He replied, his tone suggesting he was finally giving in.

Clara smiled. "Good, now give me Lila and go on. We'll just get acquainted, us three."

"All right, all right." Craig shook his head and allowed Clara to gently lift the bundle out of his arms. "Now, you and Sophie go get some sleep. You must be exhausted."

He sighed. "We definitely are. And Clara—" He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. "I told the Doctor to come by and help you some today, I hope you don't mind. I figured it would make it easier to keep an eye on him."

"Oh. Right." Clara gave a small nod. "Yeah, yeah, that'll be fine."

"Good. He'll be by soon, I think. He seemed rather excited to see you." Craig chuckled, and then waved. "Good-bye."

"Bye." Clara shut the door and, almost immediately, Alfie burst into tears. Clara groaned inwardly and leaned down, picking up the second child with her free arm and resting him against her hip. "Shh," She murmured. "It's okay."

He wailed something incoherent and Clara was forced to stumble over to the couch and sit down with both kids on her lap, murmuring quietly to comfort the distraught toddler. It was several moments before Nina appeared from the hallway, her hair frizzy and her eyes squinting against the light.

"For god's sake, Clara, what's all the noise about?" She asked with a yawn.

Clara gaped at her. "You were still asleep?"

"What of it?" Nina shot back as she stumbled across to the kitchen and started opening cabinets.

"It's almost noon. I've never seen you sleep in so much."

Her flatmate shrugged as she pulled a box of cereal out of the fridge, gave it a funny look, and poured some into a bowl. "Kinda out of it," She said, her back turned.

"What was that doing in the fridge?" Clara asked curiously, trying to ignore Lila, who had started tugging at a fistful of her hair.

"Dunno. Where'd you get the two kids from?" Nina set the cereal box down and brought her bowl over, plopping down in the chair opposite the couch. Her next words were spoken through a mouthful of Cheerios. "I thought your job was at their house."

Clara stared at the other woman. "Nina, their house blew up. I told you that."

She only shrugged. "Like I said, kinda out of it."

"No kidding," Clara said under her breath. "Wait, hold on, didn't you have a date at noon?"

"Didn't I have a—what?" Nina slowly met Clara's gaze, and then her brown eyes flew open and she almost spilled her breakfast jumping off the couch. "Oh god, you're right! I can't believe I slept in! Sorry, I'll just leave this here." She set the bowl down on the coffee table and bolted for the hall, her bare feet smacking against the hardwood floors.

Clara rolled her eyes and settled back into the couch, still holding Lila, watching as Alfie clambered off the couch and reached across the coffee table for the remote. He brandished it at her like a sword, saying nothing but climbing back up onto the sofa and fixing his gaze on the telly. She chuckled. "All right, you want to watch something?"

He nodded and shoved the plastic device into her hands. So far, she had yet to get one word out of the little boy, but Sophie had explained that he was just quiet. He settled himself down on the couch and Clara raised the remote, flicking on the telly and flipping through a few channels in search of one showing kid's programs. Lila squirmed in her arms at the sudden sound blaring from the speakers, and Clara had to set the remote down to calm down the upset infant, stopping on a news channel. Alfie stared at it for a few seconds, bored, before he picked up the controller and started messing with it on his own while Clara carried her younger charge away from the noise to calm her down. Lila refused to settle, eventually forcing Clara to open the door into the hallway and step out, close enough to hear whatever was going on inside the flat but far enough away for the noise to no longer bother Lila. After a few more moments of sniffling, the baby finally quieted down, and Clara let out a breath of relief.

It was a sudden knocking at the door the startled her next. She winced as Lila erupted into fresh tears, and went to open the door, thinking it was probably Craig having forgotten to tell her something.

To her surprise, when she pulled the door open she found none other than the Doctor, standing on her doorstep, grinning brightly. "Oh!" Her eyes widened and she took a tiny step backwards, one hand involuntarily flying up to brush through her unkempt hair. "John. Didn't expect to see you so soon."

He looked mortified at her comment, and stumbled forward a few steps, putting his hands out in a gesture of apology. "Sorry, sorry!" He replied. "I didn't realize you weren't expecting me. Um, I was just…" He stopped his blubbering and pointed vaguely behind him. "I was in the area, and he told me to come by soon and help you out, since Lila's all, well… that. But I can come back later! If you don't need me." He gave her a cautious grin, eyes sparkling.

His hurried apology tugged the corners of Clara's lips up into a smile. She opened the door wider and adjusted the crying baby in her arms, cooing softly to quiet her down. "It's fine, come in," She said, backing up so he could get by her.

He seemed cautious anyways. "Are you sure?" He asked. "I really didn't realize Craig hadn't told you when I'd be over."

She shook her head and laughed. "No, seriously, it's fine," She promised. "I don't mind. Alfie's inside."

John smiled. "Brilliant!" He squeezed past her in the narrow doorway and went inside the flat. Clara paused to watch him go in, marveling at how different he was like this. A simple shift in species, and he seemed so much… happier. No, that wasn't quite it. The Doctor was happy, too, but maybe John just had less to be sad about. She shut the door, quieted Lila and headed back into her flat.

The ex-Time Lord had sat himself on the couch, and to Clara's surprise he had Alfie sitting on his knee and was helping the child aim the remote at the telly and flip through the channels. Alfie was obviously taking the situation quite seriously, mouth set in a tiny pout and a crease between his fine eyebrows, but the Doctor was smiling. When she came in, he looked up. "Sorry! He was having trouble with the controls."

"No problem," She laughed. "I was going to help him anyways."

"I got it." He paused to catch the remote when Alfie fumbled with it, then gently took it from his hands and flicked to a channel playing cartoons. "There you go, kiddo."

Alfie made a tiny noise of satisfaction and clambered off the Doctor's lap, snuggling against the cushions with his eyes fixated on the screen. Clara chuckled as she sat down next to him on the couch, a little bit of space between her and the Doctor. There was a moment of silence, only broken the soft sound of the programme playing children's music. Lila was dozing in Clara's arms, and she found it remarkable how quickly babies could drift off when they didn't need to, but the moment it was nighttime they couldn't sleep a wink.

She bounced the little girl gently, pleased to see her falling asleep. To her surprise, when she glanced up again, she caught the Doctor watching her with the hint of a funny little smile on his face that she'd never seen before. Suddenly self-conscious, she felt her cheeks flush. "What is it?"

"Nothing, just…" He nodded to the sleeping Lila. "You're really good with her. Craig can barely get her to shut up."

"Oh." A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she dropped her gaze. "Thanks."

Her stomach felt like it was on fire, blazing with guilt even as she smiled. It was ridiculous, the way she felt now that his guard had dropped down. He was acting different, and thus she was, too. It was harder to control her thoughts when he was looking at her like that.

She turned away. As a human, he was a lot more normal and simple than he ever would be as the Doctor. She just had to remember her trick: _Don't fall in love. Remember that. Whatever you do, or whatever you feel, keep it under control. This is a temporary situation._

Her shoulders slumped slightly. This was much harder than she'd thought it would be.

* * *

**A/n: Sorry this took so long to get up! I've been having a MASSIVE writer's block with this thing. If any of you guys are following the other fic I just started, Hollow Dreamer, I'm working on the next chapter of that one too and it'll be up by the end of the weekend if all goes well. Don't be afraid to leave feedback! I'd love to read it. c:**


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